Book that I write in: Conrad Corvasius

Book that I write in:

After the battle in the Basin was done I returned to the tunnel leading to the Defilers Den. I had resolved to get some answers from Vaalis, the wayward Death Knight who had pulled me from my grave after the fall of the Lich King. He had given me both coin and purpose, though he wouldn't say why.

As I left the enclosed entrance to the Basin and stepped out onto the wooden deck beside the Hammerfall Inn I scowled uncomfortably at the brightness of the sun in these highlands. Best to backtrack and find where I had made that wrong turn.

After a long, hard, bone-jarring ride I found my way to Tarren Mill. No sign of Vaalis. I decided to wait a few days and see if he would appear. Not wanting to sit idly by I set about seeing if there was any work suitable of a Death Stalker.

After several days I was still unable to find work and there was still no sign of Vaalis. With each passing day I was growing more and more frustrated with what an enigma Vaalis was to me,  and my resolve to get some answers from him grew even stronger.


One day, as I wandered the town considering my situation, a strange Forsaken woman with huge goggles blocked my path.  Holding a gnarled staff level with my waist she grinned at me and said, “Fancy a lift, Defiler?”

The grin combined with the goggles she wore made it look like her entire face was her mouth since it was the only actual facial feature that could be seen.


In spite of the staff pressing into my waist I didn't answer this mysterious Forsaken woman right away. Instead my attention had been caught by the massive structure behind her. I have no idea how I'd managed to miss it during my time in Tarren Mill. The structure was an upright steel beam, as wide across as two Forsaken standing abreast and topped with what looked like a giant, Forsaken-version of a mobile from a child's crib – tremendous rotting wooden beams bracketed with blackened metal braces, with large hoops hanging down from it by rusted chains. There were massive bats (much bigger than the ones I had killed in Tirisfall for fur) hanging upside down from them, their faces nestled in their wings.

At some point my jaw must have fallen open under my mask, because the Forsaken woman started cackling at me. “Ever ridden a bat before, dearie?”

I shook my head. With what looked like a well rehearsed movement she took her staff and prodded one of the dozing bats roughly. The bat lifted it's head out of it's wing and squeaked at her disapprovingly, it's beady eyes squinting in the sunlight. With the delicacy someone might use to beat the dust out of a rug from Undercity, she prodded the beast until it was awake and flapping it's wings irritably.

“Damn things hate flying in the day, but we'll have it breed out of them soon enough.” She winked at me, or least I got the impression she was.

I looked at the bat and spoke with apprehension, clutching my hands to my chest and rubbing them, “T-this is transportation...?”
I looked at her, but rather than giving me a response in a traditional sense she reached up and struck the chain of the bat she had just woken causing it flop to the ground awkwardly and then screech at me like I was the one who disturbed it's nap. I leapt back in response. Imagine me, fresh out of the Basin after killing my first human only to be scared witless by a sleepy bat.

The Bat Handler mimed wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand and nodded to me. “Yeah, it's transportation. Straddle it like a horse and grab fistfuls of it's pelt where it's thickest there at the base of it's neck.”

She pointed to show me, and I found myself nodding like an idiot. I was rapidly weighting my choices. I wanted to reach Vaalis swiftly, which is to say I wanted to reach him while I still had the resolve to give an ear-full to my saviour Death Knight, in spite of the fact that he could probably cleave me in two. I'm not sure what alarmed me more about the prospective conversation with him – the thought of facing Vaalis when he was angry or appearing ungrateful for the aid he had generously given me.

When I had found myself in Hammerfall I had no idea how long it had taken me to ride there, I was so lost in thought when I made the trip. But now that I had backtracked and found my way to Tarren Mill I knew how long I had been riding and so I didn't want to chance the trip back to the Undercity taking longer than it had to. After calling myself a coward and telling myself to just ride the damn bat I was able to shove a few silvers towards the Bat Handler and  mount the beast.

I grabbed as much of the bat's pelt as I could and, speaking with a confidence I didn't have, I told the Handler I wanted to go the Undercity. As soon as I spoke my destination the bat sprung into action, lifting off into the air with a remarkable amount of force considering it didn't get a running start. I nearly toppled backwards, and decided to overcompensate when I regained my balance by leaning forward and wrapping my arms around the neck of the bat, hugging it for dear unlife.

I wasn't exactly scared when I looked down and saw the landscape whizzing by under my bat's belly. Fear isn't something I've experienced acutely since being risen. The trick of it is that fear-induced panic is very distracting; while being aware of your situation but un-afarid gives you a lot of time to consider your predicament and think of all the terrible things that could happen to you with great detail and clarity. So I wasn't scared when I saw how high I was above the ground, but I was imagining one of my detached arms clawing it's way through the Highlands grass to find the other parts of my skeleton that had crashed to the ground and scattered.

What I wouldn't give to have just pissed my leathers through some miracle of necromantic magic and screamed in terror the whole trip. Sometimes I think the living don't know how easy they have it.

I was grateful for solid ground when my bat finally landed in the Undercity. I had half expected the handler to make a sarcastic remark about how I was hugging the bat around his neck, but apparently only the handlers stationed at remote outposts have the time to harass new Forsaken about riding the beasts.

I brushed the bat fur from my leathers and did a mental checklist. I was alive, or as alive as I was going to be, my leathers and weapons were cleaned and in good repair, my gold pouch hung heavy at my side, and my personal poison supply was well stocked. I groaned with frustration and dragged my palms down my face slowly. I had no reason to say in the Undercity and resupply.

Which meant I couldn't put off trying to seek out Vaalis and question him.

I did a full circle (literally) of the Trade Quarter, and then made for the elevators, carefully avoiding the gaze of the Orcish guards. I wasn't really sure where I would find Vaalis, but my plan was to check Brill, then the graveyard, and should I not find him in either of those places then I would write him and sit outside Acherus tapping my foot. I was grateful for Vaalis and how he had helped me out of my grave, but my questions were just piling up.

First off, why was I even in a grave? I had to have been Scourge at one point. Who stuffs a Scourge corpse in a coffin, and then buries it in Brill with a tombstone? I had thought I was special for coming from a grave rather than a crypt, but now that I realized how different I was for it I was starting to get self conscious and wonder. Vaalis had to know something I didn't.

Then there was the obvious question of why he had given me so much instruction and gold when he found me. Vaalis was not a kind Forsaken, I sensed no tenderness or understanding in him, he wasn't aiding me out of the goodness of his unbeating heart. I was beginning to think eventually he was going to ask me to do something very difficult in exchange for what he had done for me. I didn't mind the thought of paying my debt to him, I just wanted to know what he was planning, the suspense was eating at me.

I was deep in thought in the elevator as it began it's climb to the surface, wondering if maybe Vaalis craved company of his own kind. When he explained what a Death Knight was I had thought of the Forsaken ones as former champions that had joined us again, and that was good for our kind, wasn't it? I thought harder. I had never seen Vaalis in Brill or the Undercity. Asides from that time he rented a room for me, he was always lurking outside Forsaken settlements. Was that intentional? I realized with a start that I had never seen any other Forsaken Death Knights, but quickly reasoned I wouldn't be able to identify them by the the way their eyes glowed blue. Were they ostracized for serving the Lich King so closely before they were freed?

I crossed the old throne room that would lead me to the courtyard outside, holding my covered chin while I was lost in my thoughts. I caught something out of the corner of my eye (or rather, eye socket) and my head jerked upright as I took a closer look. There was a Forsaken man standing in the middle of the throne room, I had been so deep in thought, and he so still, I nearly walked right by him.

I hesitantly took a step closer to him, curious about his appearance. He was hunched, more so than other Forsaken men I had seen. But what was catching my attention was the fact that his spine was lined with spikes, or perhaps the vertebrae themselves had been elongated. The tallest spike looked about a foot long, and in true Forsaken fashion it sported a whole skull on it, speared through the eye socket.

As I continued to gaze at him he turned his head and spotted me. I quickly pressed myself against the wall out of shock, all thoughts of Vaalis now gone. His face was monstrous. Like me he had no eyes, nor a jaw, but a whole eyeball was attached to the tongue that hung down from the roof of his mouth. The eye glowed softy with what I assumed to be some kind of magic, and his tongue twisted like a serpent as he looked at me. At least, I assumed he was looking at me. With his mouth.

The most unsettling feature of them all was the friendly, wide-brimmed leather fishing hat that sat on his head. He wore cloth trousers and a plaid shirt. Parts of his body glistened with a wetness I could see from the few shafts of moonlight steaming in from the courtyard, and his mouth dripped some unknown ichlor to the ground in front of him. The puddle at his feet indicated he had been standing there for some time. His appearance was so frightening he didn't need to dress it up with armour; and the fact that he didn't try to dress up the horror of his appearance only seemed to magnify the horrific effect.

His voice was a low hiss that filled the room, and I wasn't sure if it came from the enchanted eye or his mouth, but at that point I didn't care. I was nervous and caught off guard, and right then I just wanted to disappear into the tattered curtains I was pressing my back into. I winced as he started to speak, just barley resisting the urge to let out the most girlish scream my rotten vocals could manage in a desperate attempt for the Orcish guards to come save me.

“Greetingsssss, sisssster.”

I would have blinked if I was able.

“I'm s-s-sorry, could you repeat that?” I stuttered, momentarily lifting my back off the wall.

He chuckled, it was a low raspy sound. Actually, it was the first time I think a Forsaken laughed because they found me amusing, rather than to insult me for my ignorance.

“I sssaid greetingsss. I am Conrad Corvasiusss, the nameless horror. Executor of the Ssssscythe of Ssssylvanas.”

I took myself away from the wall enough to blow slightly in greeting, now more curious than scared. “Genavie Bayle sir, a-a-at least that's what the tombstone said.” I looked down at my feet, and the silence after I spoke threatened to choke me.

Finally, he spoke again. “Do you not hear it? There are ssssspirits in this room. A father and son speak, one is murdered. Be sstill and lissten, you will hear them.” Corvasius gestured to the ground in front of him, and I slowly moved to stand before him. His tongue twisted upwards, the glowing eye looked to the ceiling, and I did the same.

I listened carefully. I didn't know why I suddenly wanted to hear the father and son kill each other. I strained my rotten ears. I heard little, the dripping of Corvasius's maw, the wind outside, and then...

“I hear it!” I cried out, and dropped to the ground so I could press my ear to cobblestone floor. I had thought I would hear the spirit of the father of son from above, but they were bellow me, under the ground.

“Good little one, what isss it you hear?”

Corvasius's approval rushed though me in way that reminded me very much of joy. I pressed my ear harder against the ground. I heard what sounded like the movement of a stone platform of some kind, and then a muffled pained noise.

“It... Oh.” I spoke slowly, the realization dawning on me. “I didn't hear it. That was just someone being injured by the elevator.”

Again, I added silently to myself. Sitting up and then standing, I looked at Corvasius, expecting a sneer to be painted on the top half of his face. He chuckled again and shook his head.

Mustering all the social courage I had, I took a step towards him and spoke.

“Could you please tell me more about the Scythe?”

"Book that I Write in" is the journal of Genavie, a Forsaken Deathstalker. The story is ongoing and based off of actual roleplay done with the character on Wyrmrest Accord - US. The first entry can be found here."